


These Are Things

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-01
Updated: 2005-07-01
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: “Orli’s a good bloke, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing.” Dom grins wickedly, laces his fingers behind his head. “Besides, he probably doesn’t know what to do with a woman anyway. Just as well I’m there.”





	These Are Things

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song of the same name by Wheat. Thanks to [](https://kraken-wakes.livejournal.com/profile)[kraken_wakes](https://kraken-wakes.livejournal.com/) and [](https://missiedith.livejournal.com/profile)[missiedith](https://missiedith.livejournal.com/) for the Brit-betas, and to [](https://impasto.livejournal.com/profile)[impasto](https://impasto.livejournal.com/) for editing. For the 2-year anniversary of my time here on livejournal, with love to my all-time OT3.

The party is in full swing and they’ve just finished off the first tray of appetizers when Dom sees Elijah pat down his pockets and head for the door in that familiar way Dom recognizes as being time for a smoke break. He had been mid-conversation with Orlando, but Orlando’s date has reclaimed his attention, so Dom sets down his glass and follows Elijah out, thinking they could both probably use the company and the quietude.

It’s cooler on the patio, and Dom fiddles with his rings while Elijah pulls out his pack and a standard convenience-store lighter. “How long have you been smoking?” Dom asks, because he’s seen Elijah smoke a lot, but it doesn’t always seem to fit with his age and his attitude.

Elijah shrugs, gets the filter lit and takes the first drag. “Since last year,” he says on the exhale, blowing smoke out into the garden. “It seemed like such a grown-up thing to do.”

“Tchah,” Dom says eloquently. “I forget you’re so young.” Elijah rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment, and they spend a few companionable minutes in relative silence while Elijah smokes and Dom takes in the night.

“There’s an art to it,” Elijah says. His hand rises gracefully, extends to tap the ash from his cigarette. It falls on his thigh rather than into the ashtray, and he looks ruefully at Dom, who is trying without much success to stifle a snicker.

“I’m still working on it,” Elijah explains, and his lips curl up as he sticks the cigarette into his mouth. His lips purse, suck, and Dom watches for a moment, hypnotized, until Elijah exhales and looks down to tap the ashes loose again.

 _Oral fixation_ , he thinks, and that’s such a random (Elijah?) thought to have that he shakes his head, dismissing it.

“Are you enjoying the party?” Dom asks, and Elijah pauses, shrugs as he takes another drag. “Too bad there aren’t more off set birds here,” Dom continues, a wistful note creeping into his voice as he thinks about it. “Could use a good shag tonight.”

Elijah doesn’t say anything, but that’s probably because he’s busy stubbing out his cigarette. “The blonde in the mini-dress isn’t bad,” Dom muses, and looks over at Elijah’s snort.

“She came with Orli,” Elijah points out dryly, which means he’s noticed her too, and Dom is rather pleased at that. “I think he’s planning on leaving with her.”

Dom makes a noise that sounds something like ‘pish’, and shakes his head while Elijah lights up again, hand cupped around the flame to protect it from the non-existent breeze. “Orli’s a good bloke, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing.” Dom grins wickedly, laces his fingers behind his head. “Besides, he probably doesn’t know what to do with a woman anyway. Just as well I’m there.”

Elijah chokes, and Dom’s sidelong glance at him catches a sharp look. He blinks and it’s gone, though; dissolved into Elijah’s customary cynical expression. “What are you saying?” Elijah asks acidly. “That Orlando can’t get his share of women?”

Dom grins wider, enjoying the red flush of embarrassment creeping over Elijah’s collar. “Nah,” he replies nonchalantly. “Just that he’s a bit of a shirt-lifter, that’s all.”

Admirably, Elijah doesn’t choke this time, but the red does rise a little higher. “You’re one to talk,” he shoots back, and he might be off-balance, but he’s still holding his own, and Dom feels an almost parental surge of pride.

Dom tuts, deliberately not answering, and goes back to ribbing the absent Orlando. “He’s obvious about it, though, isn’t he? With the clothes, and the jewelry, and the looks.” He pauses for effect, continues lightly. “Don’t think I haven’t seen the way he looks at you. Fifty quid says he’s bent.”

For the second time in one night, Elijah surprises him, not rising to the bait. “Have you ever?” he asks, offhanded, but Dom can see the tightness around his eyes, signaling that it isn’t at all.

“What, messed around with guys? Yeah, mate, sure, when I was a lad at college. Who didn’t?” But he can tell from Elijah’s expression that Elijah hasn’t, and knowing what he knows of Elijah’s life growing up, that actually makes sense.

Elijah starts to speak, and for one heady, terrifying moment, Dom is sure Elijah is going to ask Dom to kiss him. Which he wouldn’t object to, exactly, it’s just not his sort of thing. He’s past the experimentation phase, and now it’s not something he has a lot of time for. He doesn’t fool around when it comes to sex; it’s either all the way or nothing. You’re in or you’re out, and Dom doesn’t want to be water for anyone to dip their toes in, close mate or not.

But what actually comes out of Elijah’s mouth is, “I think we should get back.” Which is true, but also obviously a change of subject, and Dom’s half-relieved and half-annoyed at Elijah for not having the balls to even ask.

“That we should,” Dom answers easily, and Elijah puts out the cigarette without meeting Dom’s eyes, and they head back in.

Orlando looks up when they walk through the door, and Dom could swear there’s a question in his eyes when he looks at Dom, but that’s probably just nerves and misplaced guilt talking, and Dom doesn’t know the answer anyway – how could he, when he doesn’t know the question? – so he shakes his head and makes his way to the snacks table.

“Dom, honey, are you all set?” Liv asks, playing hostess with all of her usual grace. “Can I get you anything?”

Dom flashes his party smile, raises a plastic tumbler in toast. “Doing fine. Cheers.”

She smiles, and when she moves away he sees Orlando looking at him, but the tension from earlier is gone. Imagined, more than likely. Orlando lets his gaze drift, the way you do in a crowded room full of people, and so does Dom. It’s purely coincidence that Dom’s comes to rest on Elijah.

Although it’s interesting to note, when he looks back a moment later, that Orlando’s has done the same.

* * * * *

It’s a late night, and Dom and Orlando are spending it like they do a lot of late nights – stretched out on Orlando’s living room rug, with drinks and conversation. Orlando is one of the few people that Dom can have intelligent (or intelligent-seeming, anyway) talks with when they’re both well on their way to inebriated and up far too late for early-morning call times.

It could all be in Dom’s head, but it feels to him like there’s something they’re not talking about, something beneath the current of words, more than how the girl from the party wasn’t worth a second date, and when they’re going surfing again, and which species has the best weaponry, taking into consideration both style and effectiveness.

Elijah’s at the forefront of Dom’s mind, and he’s one subject that hasn’t come up yet, not even a passing mention. Dom wonders if Orlando has noticed, and whether there’s something more there than he realized before. It’s possible, he supposes. Elijah’s asking certain questions, and Orlando…well, Dom’s fairly certain that Orlando has the answers.

That connection plus several beers is enough to open his mouth, and he figures to hell with it, they’ve talked about much worse and still been able to shrug it off in the morning. He might as well get it out in the open.

“Truth or dare,” Dom says, even though they’re not playing. He continues before Orlando has a chance to react, because – hey, they’re not really playing, and all Dom honestly wants is an answer. “If you could shag any member of the Fellowship, who would it be?”

Orlando plays with his glass, rolling it between his hands. “I thought I got to choose if I wanted a dare,” he rebukes mildly – and Orlando probably always would, now that Dom thinks about it – but he looks like he’s considering the question, so Dom waits.

“Elijah,” Orlando says finally, and he pours himself another drink. “Have to be Elijah.”

Dom’s stomach flips, but it isn’t like the answer is totally unexpected. They’re not such a large group, after all, and he already knows (and is pretty sure Orlando does as well) which members of the cast would even remotely consider such a proposition. Elijah, as ambiguous as he is right now, is at the top of the list.

“What about me?” Dom jokes, needing to cover with something, and choosing the most obvious jest. Although it isn’t all that funny, really, and he doesn’t believe that Orlando thinks so either.

Orlando’s eyes flicker, but whatever was there is gone in an eyeblink, carefully hidden from sight, and Dom doesn’t know how to get it back again.

“I wouldn’t shag you,” Orlando says, and Dom’s stomach has the chance to drop before he finishes, “I’d let you shag me.”

Dom licks lips suddenly gone dry. “Yeah?” he asks, because that’s actually a highly alluring prospect, if Orlando means it. If Elijah’s at the top of the list…well, Orlando puts that position in serious jeopardy.

“Yeah,” Orlando says, and their eyes are locked and this looks like it, because the only thing to do now is to set down his glass, crawl over there, and call Orlando’s bluff…or not. And Dom’s just intoxicated enough to find out for himself which one it is.

Orlando’s mobile goes off. Dom recognizes the ring-tone and closes his eyes.

“Hey, ’Lij…no, just hanging out at the house…Dom…I don’t know, he might have his phone turned off…no, sure, that would be great…see you then.”

Dom hears the snap of Orlando’s phone closing and opens his eyes again, feeling inexplicably guilty. “’Lij is coming over?” he asks casually, lounging back against the sofa and trying to relax.

Orlando nods, and his eyes are still blank. “Ten minutes. He promised to bring beer.”

Dom swallows, reaches for another bottle. “Well, that’s cool,” he says.

“Yeah,” Orlando says.

Moments pass. Even awkward ones. This one just seems to take longer than most to do so.

* * * * *

Orlando is the first to ‘fall from grace’, as they say, meaning of course P.J.’s grace, because there’s no one else’s opinion that really matters. Orlando’s too young, too inexperienced, he pisses about too much on set and doesn’t take his work seriously. Peter doesn’t say it aloud, of course, but they all know it, and Orlando obviously feels it.

The rest of them gather around him kind of like an honour guard, bolstering his confidence and cracking jokes whenever Orlando’s misery becomes too palpable and they need to lighten the mood. Far from abandoning a sinking ship, they reinforce it, teaching Orlando everything they collectively know about getting back on a director’s good side. They form a support group, looking out for each other, just being there when needed.

And it’s a good thing, because Dom is the next to fall.

It’s nowhere near as quiet this time. Peter gets as loud as he ever does, and delivers a lecture in front of the entire crew and the other actors in the scene about respecting the work they’re doing, and everyone’s part in that, and how big a film this is, on a tight schedule and a tighter budget, which means they don’t have the time to muck about on set wasting everyone’s time when they’re ready to do the shot, is that clear and are they understood.

The rest of the afternoon is torture, but Dom grits his teeth and pushes through to the end, when Peter releases them with an apology for being short-tempered earlier and a thank-you for their good work.

Elijah tries to say something to him as they all turn to head back to the make-up trailers, but Dom shakes his head. “I deserved it,” he says – and he did, which only makes it ten times worse.

He trudges on for another few paces, shutting out the expression on Elijah’s face, and then an arm is slung heavily over his shoulders, making him stagger for a step before he catches himself. Orlando beams at him, ignoring Dom’s scowl, and gives his shoulders a brief squeeze. “So,” he announces cheerfully to the group at large. “Who’s up for getting completely trolleyed?”

Dom’s irritable, but he does appreciate the fact that they’re trying. “Not in the mood,” he mutters, hoping they’ll leave it alone and let him stew on his own for a while, but Orlando is relentless.

“You will be,” he insists cheerfully. “And it’s better if you do it with mates.” He quirks his lips in a sympathetic smile, and Dom wonders if this is what Orlando has felt like, the past few weeks. Orlando looks away before Dom can read anything in his eyes, though, and keeps them moving towards the trailers with good-natured determination. “Trust me.”

* * * * *

Beer doesn’t help, it only gives him a headache, and Dom knows he should probably just pack it in and call it a night, sleep it off without drinking any more and wake up ready to work. The guys aren’t helping, even though they’re trying – the respectful distance they’re trying to provide between him and them only scrapes on his nerves. And Billy isn’t here, which is the worst part – he had something at home to take care of, and Dom strongly resents that fact, because Billy is probably the only one who could cheer him up tonight.

Elijah plunks down on the barstool beside him, and Dom spares him a brief, grumpy glance before turning back to contemplating his (half-empty) glass. Elijah’s face falls, and Dom sourly pats himself on the back for doing such a good job of ruining everyone else’s night, too.

“There you are,” Orlando says from Dom’s other side, and suddenly he’s there, too, leaning casually against the counter in an artful pose that could have any person in this bar in his bed if he so much as crooked a finger. It doesn’t improve Dom’s mood any, but he does gleefully reflect that at least now everyone in this bar hates him for monopolizing the attention of the eye candy.

“Feel like a dance?” Orlando asks, and Dom realizes they both must have been out on the floor, because Orlando’s shirt is damp with perspiration, and Elijah is glowing and flushed.

He shakes his head, knocks back the rest of his drink and doesn’t signal for another when the barman catches his eye. “I’m done,” he announces, and refuses to be swayed even by Elijah’s little chirp of dismay from over Dom’s shoulder. “Heading home. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Orlando nods, and Elijah looks at him reproachfully but seems to realize that he’s not going to be able to change Dom’s mind, because he doesn’t stop Dom when he stands up and slaps down a handful of bills to cover his tab.

“Want me to call you a cab?” Orlando inquires, and Dom shakes his head.

“I’ve got it. Have a good night,” he says, and Elijah nods without saying anything, which is good because Dom doesn’t have a very good (read: nonexistent) hold on his temper right now, and Elijah can be very sweet and considerate, but he can also be very trying at times, and Dom just isn’t in the mood.

He turns to go, and as he’s leaving he sees Orlando step behind the barstool Elijah is perched on and drape an arm in a comforting gesture loosely over Elijah’s chest. Dom doesn’t think about it until he’s flagging down a cab and opening the back door, and then it hits him. _Anyone in this bar._

Well, it’s not impossible. He supposes he shouldn’t even be surprised. And hey, at least he’ll be the only one of them going home alone tonight.

* * * * *

If anything happened, no one’s talking about it. Orlando and Elijah behave the same way they always have, and Dom begins to feel slightly paranoid, like he’s been making things up that were never there to begin with. The three of them are as tight as ever, and the evenings of drinking, clubbing, and watching movies go on without any noticeable change.

It’s all in his head, Dom concludes after a week of watching without seeing, looking for clues and earning only quizzical, worried glances in return. There’s nothing there. Elijah had been momentarily curious, and Orlando had acted brazen because Dom had pushed him into it, and everything else is in Dom’s overactive imagination.

He’s fairly thoroughly convinced himself of that fact by the time he sees Elijah walk onto his balcony alone in the middle of a rather raucous hobbit movie night set up for the youngest Astin, right before Prince Ali turns back into Aladdin and gets the girl anyway. Dom hesitates, torn between the film and the faint aura of unhappiness he’s been noticing around Elijah for most of the day, and decides that friendship wins out no matter what the film.

He finds Elijah outside, unsurprisingly, but not smoking, which actually _is_ a surprise, and could mean that he’s not as upset as Dom had originally thought. He doesn’t say anything, just takes his place leaning against the balcony railing beside Elijah, and waits for one of them to feel the need to speak.

“Sean seems to be enjoying the movie night,” Elijah says at last. It’s not at all what Dom expected, but he shrugs and answers anyway, trusting that they’ll come around to it in time. Elijah takes a while to warm up, sometimes. It’s like he needs to feel secure before he puts himself on the line by saying something serious.

“I think it’s because he’s had a night off, basically, with the uncles doing all of the babysitting,” Dom answers with a crooked smile. “That would put anyone in a good mood.”

Elijah hums, which Dom takes as absent affirmation, and they watch the stars and the darkened countryside for a while before Elijah finally half-turns away from the railing. Dom shifts, sensing they’re ready to talk now. And he’s right.

“What we talked about the other day,” Elijah says abruptly. His fingers fidget nervously, and his eyes dance around meeting Dom’s. “I could never do that.”

It takes Dom’s brain a second to catch up, and even then, he’s not sure they’re on the same page. “Would you want to?” he asks, wondering if they’re even thinking of the same conversation; and if so, why Elijah’s bringing it up now.

“I couldn’t try it just once,” Elijah presses, evading the question. “People know who I am, there would be talk. It would be too risky,” he explains, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Dom’s breath catch in his throat. They are talking about the same thing, then. And Elijah’s finally worked up the balls to ask.

Elijah’s eyes are almost transparent in the moonlight, fading into silver and translucence. He looks at Dom like Dom has all of the answers he seeks, and Dom suddenly wants desperately to tell him that there are none. He doesn’t say anything, though, because Elijah looks like he needs to finish.

Elijah’s head tilts up; just a fraction. An invitation. “I’d need someone I could trust.”

“Elijah,” Dom begins, but Elijah’s already leaning in, and Dom’s already tilting to match him, and their lips meet like a sudden intake of breath.

Elijah tastes like cinnamon gum and licorice. Dom licks his lips until they part, and then they just kiss for a while, slow, lazy explorations of each other’s mouths. When they drift back finally, Elijah looks even more see-through, and younger than Dom wants to think about. He doesn’t do virgins, he reminds himself firmly. This isn’t what he wants.

Even if it is.

“Is this what you wanted?” Dom asks quietly, one hand curling around the back of Elijah’s neck, cradling his skull. “All you wanted?”

There’s another soft kiss, and a softer sigh, although Dom doesn’t know whose.

“Yes,” Elijah whispers when they part, but his eyes say _more_ \- and Dom doesn’t know which one to believe.

* * * * *

Orlando’s in a sour mood when they eventually hit the pub, late that night after the Astins have been sent home and Elijah’s house has been more-or-less tidied. It takes Dom several missed drinks, a half-hour of stony silence, and one particularly devastating ‘accidental’ blow to the ribs as Orlando pushes past on his way to the gents’ for Dom to realize that it’s mostly directed at him.

He sits for a moment in stunned surprise, until the silence at the table clues him in to the fact that it’s not just him imagining things; everyone else has noticed as well.

“Dom,” Billy says, low warning tone, but Dom ignores it, tosses back his drink and slams the empty tumbler onto the wooden tabletop as he stands to follow Orlando.

“Dom,” Elijah echoes quietly, and when he looks down Elijah meets his gaze steadily, but Dom can see the potential awkwardness behind it, the first stirrings of shame, and that only makes him more pissed. He drops his hand briefly onto Elijah’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze before heading to the loo.

Orlando’s washing his hands when Dom pushes the door open, and their eyes meet in the mirror – flicker, scorch, and away – before Orlando straightens, grabs a paper towel, and turns to face him.

“What is your problem, mate?” Dom asks. He squares his shoulders and plants his feet, blocking the way to the door in case Orlando takes the cowardly way out and tries evasion.

He’s not at all prepared for the push from Orlando’s hands on his shoulders that propels him back a half-step and knocks him off his balance, but he pushes back without thinking, and suddenly Orlando is in his face, and Dom’s aggression level (not at all helped by his alcohol level) is rising to meet the challenge.

“What the hell is your problem?” Dom snaps. Orlando isn’t touching him now, but he’s close still, and Dom’s hands are curled into ready fists at his sides.

“You kissed him,” Orlando says flatly, and Dom flounders for a moment before remembering the bar the other night, and what he’d thought he’d seen as he left.

“I don’t see as it’s any of your business,” Dom answers truthfully. He’s wary, still waiting for the first punch, but Orlando doesn’t take a swing.

“What if I make it my business?” Orlando asks, and his eyes flash dangerously.

Dom throws his hands up, runs one through his hair in exasperation. “Look, mate, if you want him…”

When Orlando lunges towards him, Dom (quite understandably) mistakes his intent, and his hands are up to defend himself before he realizes that the warm chest pressing against his is Orlando’s, and that it’s Orlando’s tongue pushing into his open mouth, hot and slippery.

“Mmph,” Dom says, because his brain hasn’t quite caught up to this sudden turn of events yet, and then they both hear the creak of the gents’ door opening at the same time, it seems, because two people have never moved apart so fast as they do now.

It’s Billy, but the expression on his face isn’t guilt or embarrassment, it’s concern, and Dom realizes belatedly that Billy must still think they’re arguing. At this point, Dom honestly can’t tell if he’s right.

“Everything all right?” Billy asks. Dom blinks, tongue-tied, but Orlando stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods.

“We’re fine,” Orlando says, and strolls out the door casually without sparing a glance for Dom.

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Are you?” he asks, and Dom watches the door slowly close behind Orlando, head cloudy and lips still tingling.

“I don’t know,” he answers eventually. “I guess so.”

Elijah’s waiting for them at the table when they get back, full of nervous energy and obvious unhappiness. “Orli left,” he tells them. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Dom answers, and stares at the booth he’d been sharing with Orlando. This whole night still isn’t making sense in his head; maybe it will after he gets some sleep and talks to Orlando in the morn…fuck, there’s no filming tomorrow, they’re off for the day. Eh, bollocks. He can go over to Orlando’s place anyway, sometime in the afternoon. Obviously, the two of them need to have a talk.

He doesn’t realize he’s spaced out until Elijah catches his attention, shifting uncomfortably and looking at him with guilty eyes. “Dom,” he says tentatively. “Did I…?”

“No,” Dom responds immediately, because that look on Elijah’s face is just unbearable. “It’s not you. Nothing to do with you.”

Elijah looks doubtful, but he subsides. Dom takes a deep breath and looks away. _Nothing_ , he thinks. _And everything_.

* * * * *

They’re sunbathing on the beach, just Dom and Billy, and after half-an-hour of silence while they soak up rays, Dom has decided that he just can’t let it go. Billy’s heard it all before, of course, but that doesn’t stop Dom from telling him again.

“The thing about Orlando,” he states loudly, “Is that he’s so obvious about what he wants, he doesn’t realize that he drives everyone around him crazy by not going after it.”

Billy makes a noncommittal noise, sort of a low hum of agreement, and doesn’t open his eyes.

“And the thing about Elijah,” Dom continues, undaunted, “Is that he’s completely oblivious to what everyone wants, every time it involves him.”

Billy hums his agreement. Dom’s ire increases exponentially.

“And the things about you, Bills,” Dom finishes disagreeably, “Is that you’re a self-absorbed twat who doesn’t notice when two of his mates are developing certain entanglements, and the third is having an issue with it.”

Billy huffs out a laugh, smiling indulgently, and some of the tension in Dom’s stomach eases. “Now, now,” Billy says calmly. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. Tell me why you’re pitching such a fit just because our Elf and Frodo might be indulging in a bit of harmless interspecies experimentation.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Dom states. “Orlando will flirt with anything that moves, and Elijah’s having a sexuality crisis and is willing to go home with anyone who looks like they might be able to show him a good time.”

“Oh?” Billy asks mildly, and his eyebrows arch delicately and suggestively towards his hairline. “And would you happen to know this firsthand, then?”

Dom feels the tips of his ears get hot, but juts his chin forward stubbornly and refuses to let Billy confuse the issue. “We talked. I told him I had some small experience in that area, if he wanted to ask questions or come to anyone for advice.”

Billy studies him for a long moment, which Dom sweats out, blushing more furiously with every passing second. Then Billy throws back his head and laughs. “You told him a great deal more than that!” he crows, and Dom frowns sternly but the effect appears to be somewhat counteracted by the embarrassed warmth in his cheeks.

“I did not,” Dom argues hotly, but Billy just shakes his head, wiping away tears of mirth. Dom waits with ill grace until Billy gets himself back under control, and then finally Billy speaks.

“Dom, the only issue you should be concerned about when it comes to Orli and ‘Lij getting together,” he advises somberly, “Is why you seem so determined to get in the middle of it.”

Dom opens his mouth, closes it again, and feels rather like a stunned fish. “I am not,” he argues vehemently, and in spite of all evidence to the contrary.

“You are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am – ”

“Dom,” Billy cuts in firmly, and Dom closes his mouth.

“Go and tell them.”

* * * * *

He’d been planning to go over to Orlando’s anyway, and thankfully Orlando makes it easier for him by appearing to be home, car in the drive and lights on all over the house, when Dom pounds on the door. His head is spinning, but he’s convinced that if he just puts the wheels into motion, everything else will take care of itself. And it’s what he’d said he wanted, right? So Orlando, at least, can’t pretend to be shocked.

Orlando opens the front door and looks less than thrilled to see Dom standing on his doorstep. “Look, Dom…” he begins, but Dom doesn’t let him finish, apology or defense.

“You want to fuck him,” Dom states flat-out, and he sees Orlando’s eyes widen before they go carefully, neutrally blank. Dom hates that look, but he’s beginning to realize what it means, and that’s not altogether a bad thing.

“So do you,” Orlando says, but it’s not a denial, and Dom smiles. _Caught you._

“You want to fuck him,” he repeats, and his fingers twitch at his sides, dancing. “And I want to watch.”

The scariest part, at least, is over now. He can scarcely believe he’s actually said it, that the words are out there now, hanging between them. Between Dom’s big mouth and Orlando’s shocked expression, and now it’s too late to go back, unless he tries to pass it off as a joke.

He doesn’t think that Orlando will find this a particularly funny joke, either.

There’s more surprise now in Orlando’s eyes, but also consideration, and the first sparks of interest. “It’s an interesting proposition,” Orlando says carefully, but there’s something else, and Dom gets it a few seconds later, when Orlando’s shield of indifference cracks and he speaks quietly, honestly. “What about us?”

Dom curls his fingers around Orlando’s thin wrist, tickles his palm. Orlando’s lips are cool, and Dom drinks him in like water. It’s everything that it was the last time, and so much more now that he knows there will be a next time.

“After,” Dom murmurs, breath whispering over Orlando’s earlobe. “I’ll fuck you after.”

* * * * *

“Elijah,” Dom says when he shows up at their summons, nearly an hour later and after there’s been plenty of time for them to look at each other, question whether or not this is really as good an idea as they think it is, and have a good stiff drink. Awkward hasn’t been the right word. The air between them practically crackles with tension, and all they need is for Elijah to either break it, or ignite it.

“What’s going on?” Elijah asks cautiously. He knows something is up – he has to, from the way Dom had acted on the phone and the way they’re both acting now, staring at him without speaking.

Dom clears his throat and opens the door wider, to usher Elijah in. “We were wondering,” he says, and then stops. “Drink?” he offers instead, catching Orlando’s eyes and trying to relay the message: _not yet, just give me some time._

“Thanks,” Elijah replies absently, but the look he gives them both says he’s not buying it – and, Dom allows, with good reason.

They settle in at the bar, and try for light conversation, which ends up falling consistently flat. Finally, Dom can’t wait any longer, and throws all of his carefully conceived plans and even more carefully rehearsed speeches to the wind. He drops his hand lightly over Elijah’s where it rests on the counter, and his thumb circles lightly, caressing.

Elijah’s eyes flick to Orlando; hold for just a second too long before dropping away. So yes, there is something there, and Dom’s pulse races with the knowledge of it, the idea of all three of them actually trying this.

“What are you doing?” Elijah asks quietly, and his eyes fix on Dom’s steadily, not flinching and not looking away.

“Someone you trust, right?” Dom reminds him, and he can see the flicker of recognition in Elijah’s eyes, followed by slow-dawning understanding. Orlando takes a step forward and then aborts his movement, and Dom breathes out in a sigh of relief. He’s sure that between them, they could easily seduce and overwhelm Elijah until he’s willing to do anything they ask…but what he really wants is for Elijah to stay, and to want to be there long after the physical joining is all over.

It doesn’t take Elijah long to figure out the rest, gaze darting briefly to Orlando and then back. “Both of you?” he asks with eyebrows slightly arched, questioning.

“Who better?” Dom counters, with a lazy flash of teeth. His thumb circles once again, a gentle encouraging prompt. “Come on. Trust us.”

There are still faint shadows of doubt in Elijah’s eyes, but he nods slowly, and the weight spirals off of Dom’s shoulders so quickly that he can actually feel his worries lifting and dissipating into the air.

“All right then,” he says, dizzy. He catches Orlando’s eye, and lust trickles up to replace the anxiety, flooding him with anticipation. “Let’s do this.”

* * * * *

Dom had been entertaining some idea of sitting on the chair beside the bed and watching, seeing his own personal live pornographic performance unfold before his very eyes, but Elijah holds out a hand, beseeching, and Dom is ensnared.

Elijah draws him onto the bed, and Orlando with him, and then Elijah’s hot, wet mouth is seeking out Dom’s with determined resolve, and Dom loses all other sensation in the urgent slide of Elijah’s tongue against his.

“Naked,” Dom growls into Elijah’s mouth, and Elijah answers him with a moan. They break apart to rid themselves of clothing, Orlando helpfully stripping off Dom’s shirt and then sidetracking him with an open-mouthed kiss, their hands fumbling at each other’s trouser fastenings while their tongues tangle and plunder. Dom eases backwards onto the mattress and pulls Orlando with him, both of them shifting until there is a sufficient amount of skin-to-skin contact.

“You still want me to fuck him?” Orlando groans, as Dom’s fingertips find his cock and guide the length into his curved palm. Dom’s mind has already posed the same question, supplying him with images of himself taking Elijah for the first time, watching his eyes go wide in surprise; his mouth on Orlando’s cock, currently hard and eager in his hand, a nice length but not too long for Dom to deep throat; or best yet, Orlando on his hands and knees, begging incoherently while Dom fucks him as hard as they can both stand it.

“Yes,” Dom answers, and his fist tugs Orlando’s cock harder for emphasis, smirking when Orlando’s eyes flutter closed and he groans, hips working desperately in concert with Dom’s hand.

“Should pay him some attention, then,” Orlando gasps, although his hips don’t break rhythm, and Dom turns his head to see Elijah watching them with dark, hungry eyes.

Dom grins, and squeezes Orlando’s cock once before letting go, chuckling at Orlando’s disappointed groan. “I’ll let you have him, shall I?” Dom whispers, and Orlando kisses him again, scorching hot, before pulling back and winking.

“We’re still in the warm-up phase,” he points out, cock rubbing slowly against Dom’s hip. “I could use some help with this part.”

Dom snorts and Orlando rolls off, laughing, already reaching for Elijah. They kiss and Dom scoots down the bed to stroke one of Elijah’s pale thighs, taking a moment to simply watch and appreciate just how devastating Orlando’s mouth truly is.

Orlando kisses Elijah’s cheek and jaw while his hands roam free, leisurely seeking out the sensitive areas on Elijah’s body and exploiting them. Elijah reacts in soft, secret places; Dom can see it in the way his eyelashes flutter and his muscles tense. The inside crease of his elbow, the curve of his stomach, the hidden hollow of his throat. Dom strokes the inside of his thigh and Elijah shudders, makes a soft plaintive sound that Orlando stops with his lips.

“Open him up for me?” Orlando asks, a softly murmured request, and Dom spreads Elijah’s legs gently, soothes the answering tremors with practiced hands.

Dom leans in and Elijah twitches sharply, straining his hips away from Dom’s mouth. “Don’t,” he begs, and their eyes meet, Orlando watching curiously between them, his fingertips tracing circles around Elijah’s rosy nipple. “I’ll come if you do that.”

Dom chuckles, and bends Elijah into a better position, pulling Elijah’s leg up and flexing it back, massaging the pit of Elijah’s knee and feeling him quiver in response. “No, you won’t,” he promises, blowing air lightly over Elijah’s groin. “I won’t let you.”

Elijah must realize his intent a split-second before Dom’s mouth reaches him, because all of his muscles jump and his hole contracts sharply just as Dom’s tongue assaults it.

“Don’t,” Elijah pleads, but his voice is catching, breathlessly, and he’s squirming helplessly without actually struggling to get away. “Dom, that’s dirty, you can’t – oh.”

Dom smiles and delves deeper, working his tongue into the tight ring of muscle and licking, sucking, curling. Orlando’s hand finds his a moment later, and their fingers perform an erotic dance, twining and pressing their palms together.

“Dom,” Elijah begs, contracting and relaxing until he’s open wide enough for Dom to fuck him with his tongue and two fingers, slow and steady. “Dom, please.” His tone changes, beseeching and breathy. “Orli.”

“I think you can take it from here,” Dom murmurs to Orlando, pulling back and releasing Elijah’s leg, settling it into position.

Orlando meets him with a full tube of lubricant and swollen lips, kissing him while their hands reacquaint themselves with each other’s bodies. “Get me ready?” he asks, and hisses when Dom’s hand finds his cock, jerking it roughly while his other hand fumbles with the flip-cap.

“Lots of lube,” Dom promises with a wink for Elijah, while Orlando thrusts into his fist, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, growing slippery in Dom’s palm as his other hand strokes on the lube.

They kiss one more time, and then Orlando settles between Elijah’s parted legs, and Dom settles in to watch. His own hand finds his cock and strokes lazily, eyes riveted as Orlando kisses Elijah briefly and guides his cock to Elijah’s opening.

Dom sees Elijah tense at the first hint of pressure, fingers digging like claws into Orlando’s shoulders, and Dom reaches for his hand, squeezing and reassuring.

Orlando’s brow is furrowed in concentration, and he eases forward slowly but with intent, ignoring Elijah’s bleat of fear laced with pain. He shakes his head when he’s in, looking at Dom with the tension of having to hold back written in his eyes.

“Elijah,” Dom says quietly. “Just relax.”

Elijah’s forehead is creased with pain, his entire body locked up tight, rigid with anxiety. Dom squeezes his hand and strokes his fingers, wincing sympathetically at the memory of the first time he’d had a cock up his arse.

“It won’t feel good until he starts to move,” Dom explains, his tone as soothing as he can make it. Orlando’s arms have started to shake, and sweat has broken out all over his naked body, beading on his wrinkled brow. “Just relax,” Dom continues. “Let him in.”

Elijah shudders, and Orlando gasps and shifts his hips involuntarily, moving slowly in and out of Elijah’s body in long, deliberate strokes. Elijah fights it at first, Dom can tell, but gradually his grip on Dom’s hand loosens and his body unfurls, as Orlando finds his rhythm and starts fucking Elijah in earnest. He’s still restrained, but with obvious purpose now, working them both towards orgasm.

“Jesus Christ,” Orlando grits out, jaw clenched and panting. “You wouldn’t believe how tight he is.”

Dom looks at Elijah then, and their gazes catch, hold. Dom sucks in a breath and can’t release it, mesmerized. Elijah’s eyes are wide and glazed, lips parted, body rocking rhythmically as Orlando thrusts into him. He twitches a little and then lies pliant when Orlando repositions their joined bodies, and then his eyes grow wider still and roll back, breath released in a long, low moan.

“God,” he whispers brokenly, “Oh, God,” and Dom can’t _not touch_ anymore, he needs to be with them, and Orlando’s kiss is messy and fierce when he guides Dom’s hand to Elijah’s cock.

“Dom!” Elijah cries out suddenly, and then Orlando’s name, voice tinged with desperation, and he’s coming, the helpless contractions of his muscles making Orlando’s hips stutter, and then he’s coming as well, and shouting into Dom’s open mouth.

“So full,” Elijah whispers, eyes hooded, and Dom shifts back so that Elijah and Orlando can share a kiss, softer and more intimate than anything Dom’s ever known. Orlando slides out with obvious care, and Elijah moans again and wraps himself around Orlando more tightly. Dom’s fist closes hard around his cock, teeth clenched with rising urgency.

Orlando seems to know, because he lifts his head to look at Dom, and his eyes are twinkling. “You still up for what we discussed?” he asks, and Dom growls. He pounces almost before Orlando is ready to receive him, and their teeth clash as they fumble desperately at each other’s bodies, need and want twisting Dom’s insides until he feels like he’s about to explode.

“Lube,” Orlando reminds him, and, “Make it fast,” Dom growls, and then he gasps as Orlando’s hand closes around his cock and starts jerking him hard and fast.

“That’s enough,” Orlando pants, arching to reclaim breathing room. Dom pushes at the same time Orlando turns, and suddenly Orlando’s on his hands and knees, arse in the air, and Dom can’t wait any longer.

He starts out hard and only gets harder: gripping Orlando’s hips and jamming his arse roughly back onto Dom’s cock with each thrust, head thrown back and snapping for air as he unravels. He’s barely aware of Elijah’s eyes wide with shock, Orlando’s encouraging moans of approval; and only belatedly realizes that Elijah has squirmed beneath Orlando, and that their tongues are dueling wildly with urgency transferred from Dom’s pent-up desire.

He comes so suddenly that it almost hurts, ecstasy surging late through his body and into Orlando’s, and he’s blinded by it, by the sheer force behind his orgasm as he pumps into Orlando’s arse.

He collapses, panting, and dimly feels a wet mouth sucking his nipple, and hands – Orlando’s, strong and confident – soothing him through the aftershocks.

“Don’t go,” he says to both of them, eyes closed and floating on euphoria. “Either of you. No one is going anywhere.”

Orlando chuckles, or maybe Elijah – no, that’s Elijah, the breathy, higher-pitched laugh. Dom feels the vibrations of it around his nipple, and shivers a little, hand coming up to cradle Elijah’s head and thread fingers through his soft, damp hair.

“We won’t,” Elijah promises, and Dom’s willing to leave it at that.


End file.
